To see her bare her fangs at him hurt more than anything he had ever imagined.
It cut him to his core, that slight warning. He deserved it—this was the welcome he had known in his heart to be the one he would receive, the one he had feared so bitterly but marched to regardless. This was how Serach should've greeted him. This was how Triell should've greeted him. A cold shoulder, a flash of teeth, don't come near my family again—it was the greeting he would've deserved. And oh, how bitter, that Serach had raised his foolish hopes.. that he had allowed himself to think there might be forgiveness out there, in the vast, cold world.
Her eyes went from him to the lake, and he knew that what he had said had been a mistake—anything would've been, though, anything but promptly turning back time and not falling off a mountain. He wanted to tell her, I did, I meant it, I do, I was coming— but the words were feeble in his throat and never made it to his mouth. His intentions didn't matter if he had never carried them through.
And, honestly, her words, so sincere, so cold, made him wonder if he hadn't done it all wrong—if he shouldn't have left Serach to search for the family he remembered, the ones who had mattered to him in the life he had had. Not that Serach hadn't mattered, but he had hardly known what he had lost—Ice could've been little more but some mythic figure, a vague memory, a bitter betrayal. Too relieved by his son's acceptance, Ice had given everything to him in that moment, forgetting about the others he should've loved better.
So, he didn't say anything. I knew that he could've said. Hearthwood River was their name, ironically close to the place where he had first entered the Lore. What would've happened if he had been further east..? What would've happened if he had caught the scent markers, and his brain had connected the dots, and formed a line straight to her? Could she have forgiven him, if his return had been to her..? Forgiven—quicker, or at all? Her eyes kept on shining, dangerous and wild to him, detached and cold as the stars. His mouth was cursed and his words all wrong, but he would not give up. She meant too much to him for him to do that.
She stepped away from him, but what had he expected? The air between them was cold and heavy, sharp. He had longed for miracles, for the ice to melt from her frame and the tension to leave her eyes, for her to sigh and step forward and say that she had missed him but everything would be alright now, but those were dreams and dreams belonged in sleep, and it was much too cold for that.
“I loved you once,” she said, and I love you still, he wanted to say, but he couldn't. He didn't know where the words came from, or if they even were true—had he loved her that way, at all? She had been family, she had been Corinna's daughter, and he had cared for her, deeply, just as he had cared for Corinna. He hadn't loved Corinna either, and she had not loved him—they had been friends, they had crawled through hell together on their scabbed knees, but they had not been in love. Maybe they would've fallen in it, if he had stayed, and maybe, they would not have; or maybe, she had loved him, but he had been too dense to notice.
In the wake of that—she loved me? and his brain leaped back through the years and years, to the bright-eyed youth dragging herself through a moaning forest for him, for her absolute certainty in his ability to exact Rissa's vengeance.. and his mild uncertainty about her behavior at times. Had it been signs of this, things he had not seen?
“But things change,” she said, stepping forward again, and for the briefest of moments, hope flared hot and vicious in his heart. It burned and it scorched and it seared him into a wasteland, for there was nothing but cold iron in her still, sharp and deadly.
But he would not scorn that which was given.
His head reached out as he listened, and oh so gently, he aimed to place his muzzle next to hers, close, and if she let him, lean it gently against hers. She smelled of Kisla and spring and the woods to the north. “I had a mate.” What happened to him? “He was ten times the wolf I had ever deserved.” Don't say that. You deserve everything, and more—you deserve all the best this world has to offer, and you always have.“I’ve raised five beautiful children.” I left mine. “I lead a pack in the forest nearby.” I abandoned mine. “What have you accomplished in the years past, Ice?” Nothing.
"My return," he said, bitterly. What else was there to say? He did not want to whine, call her unfair, tell her she knew nothing of what had kept him for more than three years—he didn't want to list merits, which were slim anyway. No, his return was the only good thing to have come of these years, every step a struggle between the love he had felt but not known for whom until then, and the fear of his reception. And that fear stood cold and stark and unyielding in front of him now, judging him through eyes of bright green. It was as if Corinna stared at him out of those eyes, and he knew that he had failed Kisla just as bad as he had failed her.
But this, this had to be when he told her what had kept him.
Or maybe, she already knew it. Maybe Serach had told her. And maybe she didn't give a damn.
She had not asked, but he told her anyway. "My traveling companion and I didn't find Cali. Bad weather separated us on the way home. I remember climbing the red mountains to the east, and then.. —nothing. It.. it took years before I knew. Bits and pieces started coming back. I knew I had to be somewhere, but not where, nor why. Faces started trickling back in. Snatches of conversations. It was less than a year ago that I finally managed to put it all together, and know where I had to go."
If she asked, he would say more. If she did not ask, he would not say more. If she—if she decided not to believe him.. He didn't know what he would do. He didn't even want to think on it, for the crushing feeling in his chest.
"I let you down so bad," he was suddenly saying, his voice threatening to break, "not just because I disappeared but because—but because I should've come and found you sooner, because.. because you matter so much to me and I have known you for so long but somehow—" He stopped, for just a moment, before plunging on, "—somehow Serach took precedence and I can't help but think that it was wrong, and then everyone left—" He shut up, as much because his control over his emotions was fraying as the fact that he was rambling.
It was what he always did, and he wasn't so sure it had ever made things better.